


Trick Or Treat

by SCFrankles



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: 221B Ficlet, Community: watsons_woes, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 06:32:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8361031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SCFrankles/pseuds/SCFrankles
Summary: Mary reminisces about the Hallowe'en traditions of her Scottish youth.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [October 2016 Prompt](http://watsons-woes.livejournal.com/1648477.html) at [Watson's Woes](http://watsons-woes.livejournal.com/) on LJ: Treat. 
> 
> Guising is the UK ancestor of the US trick-or-treating. 
> 
> Watson and Mary are the creations of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
> 
> * * *

“When I was a child in Edinburgh,” said Mary, “we were allowed to go guising at Hallowe’en—going round the neighbours together, singing songs and getting something sweet in return.”

Watson smiled. “Well, go on then. Treat me to a song and I’ll let you have the last lemon bun.”

Mary rolled her eyes. “What about… a ghost story instead?” 

She set her cup of tea aside.

“It was the Hallowe’en before I met you, and on a whim I had decided to perform another ritual from my youth. That is, sitting in front of my candlelit dressing table mirror eating an apple, in the hope of seeing the face of my future husband.”

Mary leant forwards. 

“I kept my gaze fixed on that mirror. And suddenly… at midnight exactly… I saw a male face appear by my shoulder!”

“Great heavens!” exclaimed Watson.

Mary nodded. 

“And when I went to Baker Street the following September I saw that face again. And I thought back to Hallowe’en…”

She smiled at her husband.

“...when my portrait of General Gordon had fallen off my bedroom wall.”

Watson groaned. 

“Oh, very amusing, dear.” 

He raised an eyebrow. 

“I take it you _are_ joking?”

“Of course I am,” said Mary. 

She took a sip of her tea.

“It was actually my portrait of Henry Ward Beecher.”


End file.
